Whiteout Conditions

by Kendel Duncan

  “But?”

  “He’s, well, he’s in Boulder.”

  Caysun’s heart fell to his feet, “Boulder.”

  “Yes.”

  “As in Colorado.”

  “Yes.”

  “But I don’t live there.”

  “It’s an inpatient facility.”

  “So, I’d live there.”

  “Yes.”

  His eyes darted to Vaughn, noting how his eyes were glued to the floor, “Alone.”

  “Um, there is an apartment complex onsite. I’ve pulled some strings and got you into one.”

  Caysun frowned, why did Vaughn look guilty right now? No, not guilty…..scared.

  “Vaughn?”

  “Hmmm?” Vaughn whispered as he finally lifted his eyes.

  Caysun studied him, trying to figure out what was going through his head. “You don’t want to live with me?” he finally said, since that was the only thing that made any sort of sense to him.

  Vaughn’s eyes went wide, “What? No, NO! I thought, I thought,” he said, obviously fumbling for words.

  “You thought what, babe?”

  “I thought maybe you wouldn’t want to live with me.”

  “What? Why?”

  Vaughn opened his mouth but clamped it shut when Caysun held up his hand, “Nope, I don’t want to hear it, babe. I don’t want to hear about what a bad boyfriend you’ll be or how you snore or fart in your sleep. I know this is temporary until my leg heals and we figure out our futures. I know you have a job to go back to in Tennessee. I am currently unemployed with a limited amount of savings. I want to live with you Vaughn. I can’t imagine not having you in my life. I didn’t live before I met you, I only existed. I don’t want to go back to who I used to be before I met you.”

  Vaughn’s lip quirked up, “I was going to say you might not like my choice of pets.”

  “Pets?”

  “Yeah, Chester is, well, let’s just say that he’s not for everybody.”

  “And Chester is?”

  “My ferret.”

  “You have a ferret named Chester.”

  “Actually, it’s more that Chester has a human named Vaughn.”

  Caysun snorted a laugh, “And where is said ferret now?”

  “With my next-door neighbor.”

  “Why wouldn’t I like him? What’s wrong with him?”

  “Nothing’s wrong, he’s just, um, very chirpy.”

  “Chirpy?”

  “Yeah, chirpy at, uh, inappropriate times.”

  “So, Chester the Chirpy ferret likes to squawk at you when you’re fucking?”

  Caysun narrowed his eyes, “Is that all that’s holding you back? What about work?”

  “I can ask for a transfer.”

  “You’d do that for me?”

  Vaughn leaned his forehead onto the bed, “Jesus, Cay. You almost died. On my watch. In my arms. I think it’s safe to say I’d do anything for you at this point.”

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “Do not do me any favors out of guilt, Vaughn.”

  “Guilt?” he said with a sharp inhale. Motherfucking stubborn prick, he mumbled quietly. “I am not doing this out of guilt, Caysun. Am I mad at myself for letting you get hurt? Absolutely. Do I feel guilty about it? Definitely. But those are my issues and they have nothing to do with how I feel about you. I love you, Cay. The only other person I’ve ever said those words to is my brother. I never said them to JD, even in friendship, and he was my partner for four years for fucks sake. I do not take those words lightly. They mean something to me. In my mind they’re permanent, just like a tattoo on my damn heart.”

  Caysun reached his hand up and placed it on Vaughn’s cheek, “I believe you and I love you too. And, okay. Let’s do this.”

  Doctor Farr cleared his throat and Vaughn blushed deeper than he ever had because that was the moment that he realized they’d had that entire conversation with a room full of people. He’d been so focused on Caysun that everything else had somehow fallen away. A hand came down on his shoulder, “Welcome to domestic bliss brother. It’s about damn time.”

  “Casey! It’s so good to see you! You okay? How’s Miguel?” Caysun said.

  Casey sent a sad smile his way, “I’m good. We made it okay. Miguel is being transported to the FBI’s Denver field office to undergo questioning. I’m heading that way too, but I wanted to stop by and see how you were doing before I left.”

  Vaughn stood to hug his brother. “How are you getting there? Do you need money? Or a ride?”

  Casey laughed, “Stop taking care of me, V. I’m fine. I’m riding back with Morgan and Luther. I wanted to ride with Miguel, but I couldn’t because the FBI want to talk to me too. They didn’t want us talking to each other until they’re done questioning both of us. They’re going to want to talk to you too, Cay, when you’re ready.”

  Caysun nodded his head, “I know.”

  Vaughn was clinging to Casey’s shirt sleeve like he was worried he was going to get away. “Are you…”

  “I’m good, bro. I’m going to stay with Luther and Morgan at their place for a while until I get my feet under me. He’s already found me a few local NA meetings to go to and he’s offered me a job when I’m ready.”

  “Morgan’s a good man,” Caysun said.

  “He is. You should look him up after, after, when you’re better,” Casey mumbled, blushing.

  Everyone in that room knew that Caysun might not ever get better, at least not to where he’d been before.

  But he managed a smile, for Casey’s sake, “Yeah, I’ll do that Shotgun.”

  “Good, okay, that’s, that’s, yeah, um, good,” Casey mumbled as he drew his fingers over his head, obviously a throwback to when he had longer hair.

  “Your hair’s growing back. I like that,” Vaughn said as he too ran his hand over the stubble on Casey’s scalp.

  “Yeah. Mig likes it long and I kinda miss it too.”

  “Mig?” Vaughn said with a raised eyebrow and a smirk.

  Casey blushed, “Shut up. You know I like him.”

  “Even though he’s the one who gave you that shit?”

  “He’s also the one who saved me. He was doing a job, V. You do not want to know some of the shit I’ve done over the last few years.”

  Vaughn held his palm up, “Point taken. And please, don’t say anymore. I’d hate to have to arrest you.”

  Casey grinned, “Such a straight arrow.”

  Caysun snorted, “Did you just call your brother straight?”

  “Um…”

  “I’m pretty sure straight took a flying leap out the window once he had my…….” whatever else Caysun was trying to say was muffled by Vaughn’s meaty paw clamped over his mouth.

  His eyes glittered with laughter.

  “You done now?” Vaughn asked.

  Caysun shook his head and then Vaughn flinched. “Stop licking my hand, Cay.”

  Caysun shook his head again.

  Vaughn leaned down and put his lips against Caysun’s ear, “Stop licking my hand or I won’t replace it with my dick when you get out of here.”

  Caysun frowned while Vaughn smiled, “Good boy.”

  “I don’t want to know. Give me a hug, brother. I’ve got to head out,” Casey said.

  Vaughn did, hugging him tight, “I love you brother,” he said into Casey’s ear.

  “Love you too, V. He’s a good one. Don’t fuck this up.”

  “I’m going to do my best.”

  Casey waved once more as he walked out.

  As soon as he did, Caysun turned to Doctor Farr, “Okay, Doc, when can I get out of here?”

  Forty-Three

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  Sylas

  Three Months Later

  He put his forehead down on his knees as he pulled them in tight. He was rocking slightly, his back hitting the corner of the walls, preventing him from going too far.

  Fine.

  He
’d been fucking fine.

  No anxiety, no flare ups, no panic attacks. Nothing but joy and happiness as his and Grainger’s relationship got stronger and stronger. He’d been….normal.

  Until today.

  Because he’d decided to empty the dishwasher. There were a few steak knives to put away after their dinner last night and when he’d pulled open the drawer where Grainger kept his cutlery, there in the back on the side was the exact same model and brand of knife that his mother had stabbed him with.

  And just like that he was right back in that moment, reliving it in all of its bloody, horrific glory. Or gory, as the case may be.

  Somewhere in the other room he heard his cell phone ringing but there was no way he could move right now. When he got panic attacks like this, he’d usually roll into a ball and then his muscles would pretty much lock in place until he either worked through it or passed out. At this point it was probably leaning towards passing the fuck out.

  “I’m s-s-s-sorry,” he mumbled into his knees when he heard his phone again.

  He had a feeling he knew who it was. Grainger usually called him on his lunch break and he’d walked into the kitchen at twelve-thirty. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been there, but he didn’t think it was much more than an hour. Or had it been?

  “Sylas! Sy?” Grainger called from the front door alcove.

  Sylas could hear the fear in the man’s voice. He wished he could answer the man to alleviate those fears. He desperately wished he hadn’t put them there.

  He heard Grainger’s footsteps as he ran through the living room and then bounded up the stairs. He knew Grainger had to have looked in the kitchen but he wouldn’t’ve seen Sy. Because Sy was in the corner of the dining room, hidden by the big maple table. He wanted to take a deep breath and call out to Grainger but even that was beyond his capabilities at the moment. His lungs were already fighting to suck in enough air to keep him conscious.

  The chair closest to him moved away and then he heard the whispered, “Sy? Babe?”

  “I’m sorry,” he managed to force past lips that he was certain were turning blue.

  “Can, can I touch you?”

  God, yes.

  He nodded his head.

  He expected Grainger to sit in front of him, to maybe touch his hair or his hands.

  He didn’t expect Grainger to step one leg over his head and then begin slowly inching his body down until he was sitting behind Sylas. He wrapped his arms around him and pulled Sy back against his chest, “Try to breathe with me, okay?”

  Sy nodded and took a breath, a shallow breath but a breath nonetheless.

  “I had a dog named Snickers,” Grainger said.

  Sy gave a halfhearted snort.

  “He got that name because when my Gran gave him to me, the little shit stole the Snickers out of my hand and ate it. Now I know, I know, you don’t give chocolate to a dog. I had no intention to. He’s the one who made poor choices. But at least he wasn’t bothered by it, other than leaving a giant pile of shit in the middle of the kitchen floor.”

  This time Sylas’ snort sounded more normal.

  And his breathing almost felt that way too.

  Grainger’s fingers slid up and down Sylas’ arms, caressing him, calming him….loving him.

  As his lungs filled with air, so too did his eyes fill with tears.

  He was always so emotional after an episode like this. And exhausted.

  He felt Grainger’s lips on the back of his neck, “Let it out, babe. Let it all out.”

  He took a big sobbing lung-full of air and that’s when he knew he had recovered enough to move. He quickly shuffled around far enough to bury his face into Grainger’s chest and then he did….he let it all out. He wasn’t sure how long he cried - minutes, hours - all he knew was he was horrified when he pulled back and saw the wet mess he’d made of Grainger’s dress shirt and tie.

  “Oh my god! I’m so sorry! I’ll pay for dry cleaning, I promise.”

  “Babe, I don’t care about a damn shirt. You are what matters here, okay?”

  Sylas sniffed and wiped his eyes as he nodded.

  “Now,” Grainger said as he tucked Sy’s head onto his shoulder and tightened his arms, “You want to talk about it? Or I could call Cece?”

  “No, it’s okay. I can tell you. I just feel really, well, disappointed in myself.”

  “Why?”

  “Because what triggered me was so mundane, so unimportant.”

  “What was it?”

  “A knife.”

  “A knife?”

  Sy nodded.

  “In my kitchen?”

  Another nod, “I, I, I was emptying the dishwasher when I saw it in your drawer.”

  “Was there something about it specifically that triggered you?”

  “Yes. It’s,” he shuddered as he took a deep breath, “It’s the same one my, my, m-m-m-m,”

  “Shhhh, I get it, Sy. I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize I had a matching knife. I’ll throw it away.”

  Sy shook his head, “No, don’t do that. I need to work through this, not hide from it.”

  Grainger pressed a kiss to Sy’s head, “I’m so proud of you, babe. You just let me know when you’re ready and we’ll face it together.”

  Sylas scrambled to his feet, “Now, I want to do this, now,” he said and then he swayed a bit.

  “Whoa,” Grainger said as he too scrambled upright and steadied Sylas, “easy there, babe.”

  “I got up too fast.”

  “And you’re coming down from a panic attack, are you sure you’re ready?”

  Sylas gripped Grainger’s hands with his still slightly trembling ones, “With you, I feel like I’m ready for anything.”

  “Okay. But anytime you feel you need to stop, that’s fine, okay? The important thing is that you’re trying.”

  Sylas leaned forward and pressed his lips to Grainger’s, “The important thing is that you know that I’m trying.”

  “I know you are. I see it every day.”

  With one final nod, Sylas turned with his fingers tightly locked with Grainger’s and walked into the kitchen. He froze though when he saw that the drawer with the knife was still open.

  Grainger turned and stepped in front of him, blocking his view as he ran his hands up and down Sy’s arms, “It’s okay, babe.”

  Tears welled in Sy’s eyes, “No it’s not,” he whispered.

  Grainger nodded, “Okay, okay, then how about you tell me what’s going through your head right now?”

  Sylas was silent for a minute or two, “I keep playing out that moment over and over. Was it something I said? Something I did? What made her snap like that?”

  Grainger sighed, “More than likely it was just her dementia, babe. You told me how her personality changed and that’s normal for many with her condition. You did everything you could for her, you took care of her, you loved her despite how cruel she had become. It was the disease that made her do it, Sy. Not anything you said or did.”

  Sylas nodded his head then took a deep breath and nodded his head, “It’s just a knife,” he said.

  Grainger moved back to his side, “Yep, just a knife.”

  Sylas began slowly walking forward, his eyes locked on that drawer.

  “Just a knife,” he whispered, his voice betraying his nerves.

  “Just a knife” Grainger said.

  “It can’t hurt me,” he said as he finally reached the edge of the drawer.

  He stared down at the contents, his eyes brimming with tears, his chin quivering.

  After several minutes of silence, he whispered, “I never got to say goodbye.”

  “She knew you loved her, Sy.”

  Sylas turned and buried his face in Grainger’s chest again, “I miss her so much but, but, but….”

  “You’re also kind of relieved that she’s gone,” Grainger finished for him.

  “Y-y-y-yes,” Sylas said with a sob. “I’m a horrible person.”

 
“No, Sy,” Grainger said as he cupped either side of Sylas’ head and forced his eyes up, “You are human and compassionate and completely normal. Your mother loved you and she would hate herself if she knew how horrible she had become and what she’d done to you. But she’d hate herself even more if she saw this guilt. You kept her in her home for far longer than she should have been because you loved her and wanted her to be happy. You sacrificed your own life for hers. It’s time to say goodbye and start living again.”

  “I don’t know how to do that.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  Sylas stared into Grainger’s eyes and after a bit a knowing look replaced the sadness in Sylas’ eyes and then a small smile started lifting the corners of his eyes.

  Without a word, Grainger walked over to the fridge and pulled out mushrooms and peppers. When he stood back up, Sylas was slowly pulling that knife from the drawer.

  The moment he began chopping those vegetables was the moment that he knew, that they both knew….he was going to be alright.

  Forty-Four

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  Vaughn

  He watched Cay as the man listened to the doctor giving him his discharge instructions. He was listening too, but he was also watching Cay closely. Because he knew.

  He’d seen it many times - in the men he’d served with and in fellow officers who’d been injured in the field; when you go from being incredibly healthy and active to debilitated and dependent on others, even if it’s just temporary, it fucks with your head. Big time.

  “Is everything set at the rehab facility?” Doctor Farr said.

  “Ummm,” Cay said as he looked to Vaughn for help. Because Cay had been in total denial from the moment he’d learned about the nerve damage to his leg. Vaughn had been the one to make sure the apartment near the rehab facility was secured, that initial appointments had been scheduled for Cay, and he’d even ordered an all-in-one home gym unit to be installed so he could help with Cay’s rehab. He’d had to put it in the dining room and get rid of the table, but he figured, fuck it, they were dudes. They could eat at the counter.

  “Yeah, the place is all set up. Even put in a home gym so I can help Cay with his rehab.”

  Cay frowned, “You did?”